House's head
by jesicajam
Summary: **suicide trigger warning** House can't take it anymore and tries to end his life. Wilson shows up just in time. Will house make it though okay? And how will he cope afterwards? How will Wilson react?


Hey, this is only my second fanfic and first House one :) review please :D

Be warned this is about suicide and might be triggering or sad to some people..

Let me know if I should add more chapters.. Hehe I'm not sure if its any good but if anyone likes it I will continue the story

Enjoy :)

My leg hurts. I reach down and massage it lightly. It always hurts, everything hurts. I open my eyes to see the sun starting to rise against my wall. I should be getting ready for work by now but not today. Today it hurts, it seems to hurt more today then any other day. I shift my body on my bed trying to get into a more comfortable position but my leg doesn't agree with the movement and I let out a small painful grunt. I can never be comfortable. I can never be without pain, both physically and mentally.

I slowly throw my legs over the side of my bed and sit up. Massaging my leg again as I stare at the floor.

I already know what I have planned.

I stand up and limp without my cane to the bathroom and grab onto the sink. I tilt my head down to my chest squeezing my eyes tightly. I can feel the well up of tears. I'm not allowed to cry. I don't allow my self to show weakness, even when I am alone. I'm not who they think I am. I seem so strong to everyone but really I'm screaming on the inside. I wipe my eyes and look myself in the eye.. My reflection looks so sad, broken, hurt.. Done.

Done, yes that's it. I never understood what Kutner did or why but I get it now. It all makes sense now. You can never understand how much pain someone is in on the inside and sometimes we don't even notice it ourselves because we ignore it and burry it down. But sometimes it gets too full and it bursts and you can't handle the rushing emotions that go through you. You don't change how you feel in the outside because people need to be tricked that you are okay. Manipulation- I know I'm good at that. Tricking people into thinking I'm fine when I know I'm not.

The sudden scream of pain from my leg cuts into my thoughts and I crumple down to the closed toilet and sit there rubbing my leg.

I reach over for my Vicodin pills. These pills run my life. I know they do but I need the numbness to help me through my days. I open the cap and dump the last contents of the pills into my hand. Five pills. Recommended dose would be 2 pills a day, maybe three. But I take well over the recommended dose. Sometimes three at a time, multiple times a day. My life is all so wrong.

With one swift movement I toss all five pills into my mouth and roll them around with my tongue. They start to dissolve immediately and they taste bitter and sting my mouth. I bite down on one and its bursts with the familiar bitter taste. Cuddy always scolded my for not swallowing the pills. I like to chew them. The burning bitter taste in my mouth reminds me of how much of a failure I am. It proves to myself that I shouldn't be doing this but I do. It's like punishment.

I swallow the pills which have become a thick goop from the saliva in my mouth and its sticks to my throat burning its way down. I wonder what time it is?

I drag myself up from the washroom and limp through the door and down the hall to my living room. I let myself fall onto the couch, I let out a slight scream of pain and grabbed my leg. Fucking leg. My leg has been a big part of my problems. No one wants to be with a handicap. No one. I'm just a useless cause.

I was expected to be at work forty minutes ago I realize as I look at the clock on the wall. Cuddy or Wilson will be calling soon. I feel the Vicodin bubbling in my stomach and I can still taste them in my mouth. I look over at the end table by the couch. Two full bottles of Vicodin and a half empty bottle of water are alongside a lamp and a few magazines. I know what I am going to do.

I reach over and grab one of the bottles and lean forward opening the cap, dumping the contents of the bottle onto my coffee table. Vicodin, this is how I'm going to go. Using the same pills that have run my life for years now, slowly making everything worse to the point I use them to end all the pain and not just numb it for a while. One Vicodin and the pain will dull. Two Vicodin and the pain will be almost gone and your head will spin and make you feel on top of the world. Three Vicodin and the pain is gone and you feel great, normal almost. But within a few hours the pain comes back, it always comes back, so you take more and more to make the mental and psychical pain go away. But when you take more then a recommended high dose, that's when you can make all the pain end forever. No more hurting. No more having to be high to function 'normally'.

I can feel the Vicodin from earlier starting work. I feel like I'm floating almost. On a cloud, through the sky.

I lean over and grab a handful of the pills. 10 maybe 12 pills. I bring my hand to my mouth and close my eyes taking in a deep breath. I feel calm. I uncurl my fingers and tip my hand in towards my mouth. Opening it, accepting the bitter pills without hesitation. They tumble into my mouth and I hear them bang against my teeth. I feel them against my tongue and it feels so relieving. I close my mouth and sit there, mouth full of pills, burning as they slowly dissolve in my mouth. They taste so bitter, it's so good.

I sit there for a few moments but my mouth dries out and I reach over for the water bottle to help moisture the pills so I can consume them. The water splashes into my mouth and the bitter taste gets stronger. I chew all the pills the best I can and swallow, almost choking as the sticky Vicodin slides into my stomach. It hits hard. I can feel it.

I lay back a moment. Dreaming of the relief I will have. I reach over for the other bottle on the side table and I take another small handful. And dump the rest of the bottle onto the coffee table next to the other ones I had dumped earlier.

I must have taken over twenty pills now. And being a doctor I know that is well over the lethal amount for narcotics.

I feel like throwing up but I swallow it down. Laying back on the couch with my eyes closed. Relaxing.

The phone rings but I ignore it. It's probably Wilson. Wondering why I'm not at work.

Wilson, he was a great friend. I know I wouldn't have made it this long without him, I know that. Him and Cuddy. I love Cuddy. But I don't deserve her. She can do so much better then someone like me, a drug addicted ass.

My stomach hurts now. A lot actually. I can hear my pager going off in the other room, the bathroom? I don't remember where I left it. It's probably Taub with a new case. A life that needs saving but won't be saved because I'm laying on my couch dying. It's probably a young child or an athlete with their whole life ahead of them and they will die. All because I am a selfish ass that can't handle leg pain or regulate my emotions.

I feel tired now. It must be about fifteen minutes since I took the large amount on pills. I look over at the coffee table and see the last few pills. I have taken enough, I don't need to take more. My hands are starting to shake. This is it, it's starting. The effects of the Vicodin are starting to work. Bliss.

I think I can sleep now, I feel so very tired. I relax and everything stops.

BANG BANG BANG

I think I hear banging. I try to open my eyes but everything is so blurry. What's happening? How long has it been? Am I still on the couch?

I hear my name being called. I think I see someone. Is that Wilson? I can't see, it's so blurry. Was that moan me? I'm still alive? I'm scared. I can feel my heart racing. I wish it would just explode already. I feel a sharp pain. Was I just hit? Because yes, slapping my face will help me 'snap out' of an overdose. They keep saying my name I think. I hear the clicking of a phone? Is he calling help? No! He can't call help! Maybe if I try hard enough I can tell him no. I try to speak and I hear it come out as a painful groan. Then it comes. I vomit. I feel my body turned onto my side as I cough and sputter as a natural uncontrollable reaction. I can't throw up. I need the pills to stay in my body. I wish I could see and hear clearly. I feel my back being pounded on. Hard. My head feels huge. Did I stop breathing? My chest hurts. I gasp for air. I must have choked. I wish Wilson wasn't here seeing me like this and helping me. I don't want to be helped. I deserve this.


End file.
